I realize that most would not consider this an honor but rather morbid and awful. Yet, as often as I have re-played her last words, last breath, and last moments in my mind, I am grateful that I was lucky enough to be with her during those moments. I don’t think I could accept her death had I not been a witness.

You see, she had been ill for some time, one day short of a month to be exact, but was on the upswing. She was going to be released from the hospital in a few days, either into a rehab center or home (where I would stay with her), having home healthcare coming in for rehabilitation. We had spent most of the day discussing plans for her release from “captivity”, right down to the first meal she wanted when she came home. This might not sound so exciting from a reading standpoint, but just three weeks prior she had been in a coma, and two weeks prior she still could not breathe on her own, so sitting here talking about getting out was a huge deal.

For myself, I was exhausted. I had spent everyday for the last 29 days going between work and the hospital. This day was a good day filled with good news and I expected to finally be able to sleep the entire night through. I was wrong. Ruth’s heart unexpectedly failed that evening, just as I was preparing to leave for the night. She had made it quite clear that she did not want to be put back on life support should it come to that again. So here, in front of me I witnessed a DNR request honored as my dearest friend’s heart stopped for the fourth time in a less than a month. This time the line on the monitor did not go back up, this time it stayed flat. This time the “crash cart” left the room as the team called time of death. This time was the last time.

I sat on the cold floor of the hospital hallway. Ruth’s favorite nurse came and gave me a hug (his shift was just ending when she coded and he ran into her room), he asked how I was, I said “pissed right the fuck off” and he told me that was o.k., and then I cried, he hugged me harder and asked if there was anything he could do, “no, not anymore, thank you”. So many others came and hugged me and asked me the same. Then the hospital clergy came over and talked with me “here are parking passes, how many will you need? How many will be coming?”, holy shit I thought, I need to call people and tell them!!!

I felt bad and sad for those people who I had to notify. My grief quickly pushed aside as I took to the business at hand and I became the consoler and comforter. This is when I truly realized what an honor it was for me to be a witness to her passing. I got the last moments with her, I have the very last memory of her, it is mine, and I am so blessed and honored to carry that gift.

**Ruth passed away Sept 26, 2015. She was my closest & dearest friend. I am still struggling with her death on many levels, and intend to miss her every day. My writing here on WP has taken a blow during her illness, hospital stay and untimely passing, I have lost my spark and social flair, I don’t know if either of those will ever recover, but I hope so as I miss you all so much.

I’ve been spending far too much time in hospitals and various medical buildings during the last three months. I’ve learned more than I have ever, ever wanted to know about the process of keeping the body alive and functioning. I am quiet certain that I have been privy to more test results than any one lay person needs to be.

I am neither awed by modern medicine nor am I frightened by death. I simply am.

It is my wish, whether it be tomorrow or 50 years from now, to never have a test run to find out what is “wrong” with me. I wish to sit silently with only the sound soft waves lapping at my feet, a pen and notebook resting on my lap (I think I will add a DNR to all my notebooks.) I want to just drift away in peace, without the tubes and machines.

When my Grandmother passed on, the family went about the usual business of dividing up what little belongings she had left, all the household items had been gone through years before when she moved into the retirement home. I remember sitting there as everyone looked through her items and asked for different things and gave their reasons why, I kept quiet, I didn’t want anything. Then my sister pulled Grandma’s Bible from the box and started to set it aside for the trash pile, it is well-worn and full of notes, and book marks. I stood up and walked across the room, picked up the Bible and said “this, this is all I’d like, thank you” and sat back down.

You see, my Grandmother was a wise women. Kind, gentle, open-hearted, soft-spoken, beautiful (the kind of beautiful that a blind man can see), my Grandmother was the kind of women that I want to be. And somehow I knew that somewhere within those notes, book marks, yellow tape, red marked pages, newspaper clippings and everything else she had shoved inside that worn out Bible I’d find the key to my Grandmother’s wisdom.

That was five years ago. And I know for sure that the women that I have become in the last five years is a women my Grandmother would be proud of. I’d like to share some of the clippings and notes from her Bible with all of you, it’s just good stuff a wise women had kept over the years… I’ll be sharing these in parts.

How much does a person
have to die
before they can be
really alive?
I don't know?
But I'm still bleeding
so at dying
I am not succeeding
Am I alive?
depends who you ask
most would say
I'm just wearing a mask
but you will never know
how hard I've tried
and you'll never know
how much I have cried
because I have failed
myself and you
because I have been unable
to follow through
you have been wonderful and kind
with me
and I am sorry for what
I cannot be

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Way Back Wednesday – Because the new meds are working, I guess, I mean I don’t really feel much. Lately that is alright since that is the goal. Feeling = pain, and well pain blows, so I will take comfortably numb.

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Unless otherwise noted, all writings are original work of the writer known as Bruised Belly. Please do not steal my work, you will hurt my feelings.
Photos and pictures are borrowed from Facebook and Pinterest, or are from my personal collection.

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When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. - Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet